


Runaway Fate

by RomanoJet



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Established shallura, M/M, eventual female pronouns for Pidge, middle ages AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2018-11-09 06:26:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11098785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RomanoJet/pseuds/RomanoJet
Summary: Lance is a simple serf helping his family work the land owned by the king. However, when a fateful encounter fills his head with dreams, he sets off on a journey to become something more. Keith is a prince at the palace. Tensions are rising in the castle as war threatens to break out and his father's temper gets worse by the day. Somehow two boys with such different backgrounds manage to meet.





	1. Chapter 1

People used to say to him, in a condescending tone, that his situation could always be worse. They let their eyes rove over his simple but clean clothes, then scoffed and dismissed him immediately. He wasn't rich, but he wasn't dirt-poor, either. It was because of that that he wasn't worthy of anyone's attention.  
  
But for Lance McClain, that simply wasn't enough.  
  
Stuck in a Spanish family on a farm in one of the more rural parts of Britain, with more siblings than he could count, and an infinite amount of chores to do during the day, Lance didn't have much time to dream. It was especially hard because his parents were serfs, working the land for the king who ruled it, and expected Lance to follow in their footsteps - it wasn’t as if a serf could rise in rank. But in the small moments he managed to grasp where it was only him alone in the still air, stars winking promises above, he dreamt of life beyond what he had. It wasn't as if he disliked his own life, per se, but it only took one evening when the royal entourage passed by the McClain farm to fill his mind with fantasies.  
  
The procession was led by two sparkling white horses whose bells jingled merrily on their expensive harnesses as they made their way through the countryside. On the horses were two people - someone young and someone old. The king and the prince of the whole kingdom. They were high up, so Lance couldn't see them, but he could tell by their stature, the way they held up their heads as if fashionably bearing the weight of the country, that they were truly royalty. He couldn't keep his eyes off of the boy his own age. So close, yet so far in status. The only reason it couldn't be him up on that horse was because of where he was born.  
  
Someone told Lance that day that it was as if he had literal stars twinkling in his eyes. And it was true - Lance didn't want to be a poor farm boy anymore. He wanted to be that tall, impressive figure riding in a fancy entourage with delightful horses bringing him wherever he pleased. He wanted to amount to something more than just another serf working the land, as unnoticeable as the ash that blew in the wind after a fire.  
  
Years passed, but the sparkle in Lance's eyes failed to extinguish. People told him in a tired sort of way that he should just give up; people did not simply rise in the social ranks. A farmer was a farmer, and he should be lucky that he was no beggar. Lance just smiled and nodded every time, internally ignoring the speech he had heard countless times.  
  
Though he kept watch diligently, the entourage and its royal occupants never passed by the old dirt road again. Lance refused to feel even the slightest bit of disappointment because of this, and instead set his mind to concocting a plan. As soon as his younger siblings were old enough to help their parents manage the farm, he was leaving. He was going to go to the far-off castle and realise his dream. Though the castle loomed impressively in the distance, he refused to see it as an unreachable thing. The pale walls and foreboding turrets simply spurred him on, working hard for the day that he would set off.  
  
One sunny day, as he was leading the oxen through the fields, his father approached him with a worried look in his eyes. "The townspeople are muttering," said, wringing his hands nervously. "They don't like that you've been talking about the castle. A rebellion is being planned."  
  
Lance frowned. "My dream has nothing to do with the rebellion."  
  
"Please, be careful with what you say," his father begged. "Just stay here, on the farm. Dreaming is fine when it stays in your head, but don't overstep your boundaries."  
  
Lance shook his head and watched as his father made his way back to the house. His words were not enough to deter him.  
  
So, the next day, Lance packed what he needed, dressed in his best clothes, which admittedly wasn't much, and broke the news to his mother and father. His mother cried. His father observed him carefully yet gravely, as though he knew Lance had done it because of his warning. Lance knew he was in for a lecture.  
  
“Son,” his father began gravely. “You know the laws in this land. We work the land for Lord Sendak, who works under King Zarkon, and in return they protect us from invasion. You are not supposed to rise above your station.”  
  
“That isn’t how it has to be,” Lance insisted. “I can change that.”  
  
His father just shook his head and sighed, mumbling a prayer for his son.  
  
Lance refused to let these thoughts hinder him. He had made up his mind to travel to the castle and discover his destiny. Nothing would get in his way.  
  
His walk that day was jaunty. A spring in his step, not a care in the world, and the alluring thoughts of royal life keeping him going when the sun beat down on his skin mercilessly. The castle never got any closer, but he knew every step was an improvement. Every step was another rung in the ladder he was climbing to his dream.  
  
\--------------  
  
Keith heaved a sigh as he heard the furious calling of his father echo through the large castle for the umpteenth time. Dragging himself from his finely decorated room, he ran a hand through his black hair and made his way to the throne room.  
  
His father, King Zarkon, was not pleased to see him. Mouth permanently twisted into a scowl, eyes so angry they practically glowed, and a face more dour than the most evil spirit, Zarkon was not a welcome sight. But Keith had to stay loyal to him, even when he made questionable decisions.  
  
"Akira." Zarkon spoke in a low, menacing growl as always.  
  
"Father." Keith bowed his head, feeling the first prickling of fear hit him. What had he done now? His father's use of his formal name told him that something was very wrong.  
  
The king was silent for a moment, contemplating his words. When he finally spoke, it sent shivers down Keith's spine.  
  
"Haggar has made it clear to me that the traitorous thoughts harboured in your head indicate you do not intend on making this kingdom as great as it can possibly be when you inherit the crown."  
  
Keith's eyes widened. "What? That's a lie!" he snapped. Too late, he realised his grave mistake.  
  
Zarkon shot out of his seat and pinned down Keith by his neck on the floor. "What did you say to me?" he hissed, eyes flashing with infuriation.  
  
"N-nothing," Keith choked, grabbing at his throat.  
  
Zarkon let him struggle a moment more before releasing his tight grip. Keith pulled himself a distance away and focused on regaining his breath back, heart beating with a wild panic.  
  
The king curled his lip. "You are too weak to be the king of the country I have spent my life building up. Haggar was right to doubt your abilities."  
  
Keith said nothing, wheezing. He often got these talks from his father, usually ending up this violent. The royal advisor, Haggar, had always hated Keith; this was her way of punishing him.  
  
Zarkon began to speak again, but was quickly interrupted by a guard coming in and blowing a small trumpet.  
  
"King Alfor and his family are here to visit, sire," the guard announced in a loud, regal voice.  
  
"More on this later," Zarkon growled to Keith, sweeping back to sit on his throne. Keith reluctantly went to sit beside him on the smaller throne as Haggar entered to stand beside the king, shooting the prince a nasty look.  
  
With a few more blasts from the trumpet in the guard's hands, four people entered the room. One was a tall, elegant man with flowing white hair, fitting every description of his royal image. This was the king of the neighbouring kingdom, King Alfor. His daughter followed close behind, bringing her betrothed with her. Princess Allura was the epitome of beauty, carrying herself with grace and poise. Keith knew this was an act for his father, however; Allura harboured a mischievous side that led to them becoming fast friends. Her betrothed, Prince Shiro, was a tall, handsome man with brooding eyes. He and Keith often talked about serious things, and Shiro had become somewhat of a brother to him in the process. The fourth man was the quirky royal advisor, Coran; he sported a mustache rivalling the best in the kingdom's.  
  
Keith loved when they came to visit. They were so much happier and full of life than his own family in his castle, and they instantly brightened up any room they entered here. All he received was hostility and pain from Haggar and Zarkon alike.  
  
King Alfor bowed deeply. "King Zarkon, it is a pleasure to be a guest in your home once again."  
  
Zarkon looked down on him coldly. "The pleasure is all mine. But I will not keep you with idle pleasantries. We are here to discuss war. If you will follow me, please..."  
  
He stood and waved at Haggar, who began to escort King Alfor and Coran to the meeting room with an ominous swish of her robes. Keith was left in the room with Allura and Shiro.  
  
His face broke into a grin as he hopped down from the royal throne. "How are you guys?"  
  
Allura beamed and pulled Keith into a hug. "Things have been wonderful in our kingdom, Keith. Crops are especially prosperous this year, and that puts father in such a good mood."  
  
Shiro ruffled Keith's hair and smiled down at him. "How are you doing, Keith?”  
  
Keith bit his lip. "Not so good. Father's been angry lately," he admitted.  
  
Shiro's brow furrowed. "Not at you, I hope."  
  
Keith shook his head a little too quickly, unconsciously raising his hand to cover the conspicuous marks on his neck. "No! No, it's more just been in general. The war has him stressed out, and the weather has been really bad lately. The people are thinking of revolting again, too."  
  
Allura frowned. "Hopefully his talk with my father goes well, then. But let's not talk about this now. Keith, show me your new combat training room. I've heard so many good things about it from Shiro!"  
  
Keith allowed himself to relax in the calming presence of his two best friends in the world. The worries about Zarkon's threats managed to stay pushed into the back of his brain as the day went on.  
The momentary peace only lasted until that evening, when everyone had left and it was only he and Zarkon.  
  
\--------------  
  
Lance could feel the first creeping wave of discouragement hit, though he had held it back for as long as possible.  
  
He had been on the road, enthusiastically marching the path to his dream, for a whole month now. He stopped at inns, bars, and even stables to get lodging for the night, refusing to be picky. He had to save every bit of the small amount of money he possessed that he could. He was destined for something big, and it all started with visiting that castle - he repeated this mantra to himself every day, even when the sun was scorching his neck or when the rain was dampening his clothes. Unfortunately, the castle still looked like it was far in the distance; in fact, it would be hard to say he had travelled any distance at all when looking at it.  
  
That night, at a bar, Lance made his first mistake. When the bartender grinned and offered him a drink, he hesitantly accepted. Things spiralled downward from there as he allowed himself to get completely and utterly drunk, insecurity among insecurity piling down on his mind and beer after beer made its way into his hand. The whole night was a blur of music, faces, and voices, and the only thing he vaguely remembered was a large, friendly-looking man carrying him away and laying him somewhere soft just before he passed out for good. The rest was a fuzzy mess.  
  
When Lance woke up, the first thing he processed was that the air smelled good. Really good.  
  
He blinked open his eyes and immediately sat up, nearly keeling over again when a blast of pain tried to claw open his brain and burst out of his head. When his vision cleared, he saw the big man from earlier standing at a crackling fireplace with a large pot, stirring it gently.  
  
"Where-" he croaked, throat dry as sand.  
  
The man turned around in surprise at the sound of his voice, rushing over to Lance with a cup that seemed pre-prepared. "Here," he said, voice surprisingly gentle for such an intimidating figure. "This will help with the headache."  
  
Lance took the cup and drank it without a second thought, discovering it was some kind of sweet-tasting water. He took the moment to observe the stranger whose place he was evidently lying in. He looked friendly, at least.  
  
"Thanks," he coughed, wiping his mouth. "Um, where am I?"  
  
"This is my tent," the man said. "I brought you here 'cause you were about to be robbed for everything you had in that bar. Getting that drunk isn't the best idea for your health, you know."  
  
Lance could feel hot shame dripping down his neck. He was usually a lot more responsible than that, honestly. "Right. Thanks..."  
  
"Hunk," the man supplied. "I'm Hunk. And it’s no problem. It seemed like you needed a good meal, anyway." He indicated the pot he was stirring.  
  
Lance's stomach gave a large grumble, but he was too hungry to be embarrassed. Besides, whatever the meal was, it smelled wonderful and Lance was itching to taste it.  
  
He managed to sit up completely, but the headache made itself known again, feeling like a sword impaled directly into his brain. With a soft noise of pain, he decided to remain where he was lying for the time being, dragging his hands over his face in a futile attempt to rub away the pain.  
  
Hunk was quickly finished with the meal and brought a bowl over to Lance. "Here, try some," he urged.  
  
Lance threw away his mental repercussions - this man had shown him nothing but kindness. Taking the bowl, he took a long sip of what looked like a type of soup.  
  
Instantly his pain seemed to flee as the stellar taste of the warm soup filled his body. "This is amazing," he gasped, going in for more.  
  
Hunk chuckled. "It's nothing special, but I've been told my soup's pretty good."  
  
"Good?! More like godly!" Lance enthused, quickly finishing his bowl. "You, my friend, are a god."  
  
Hunk smiled at the praise. "Thanks, buddy. But just wait until you taste my other dishes!"  
  
"Did I just die and go to heaven?" Lance swooned. "Hunk, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship."  
  
Hunk brightened. "Really? I mean, I don't have any friends because I travel too much, which is understandable; I mean, it's hard to befriend someone on the road, so that would be awesome! I mean, I don't know where you're going, but if we could travel together it would be really nice to have the company, and-"  
  
"Hunk," Lance interrupted. "It's no problem. I take it you're heading in the general direction of that castle in the distance?"  
  
"Yeah, actually!" Hunk exclaimed. "It's always been my dream to cook for the royal family."  
  
Lance could feel a huge grin spreading across his face. "Buddy, I think you've found yourself a new travel partner."  
  
Hunk visibly brightened. "Really?! That's great!"  
  
As they were talking, the sun had risen, flooding light into the tent. Lance was surprised to note that his headache was almost completely gone. Hunk's miracle food had evidently done the trick. Lance stretched, feeling more like himself. His worries and fears from the night before had been quelled at the prospect of a partner to partake in his journey with. He helped Hunk pack up his tent and supplies and they were off, the mood light and steps jaunty. The world was full of colour again.  
  
Travelling with Hunk resulted in some of the most fun times Lance had ever experienced. They talked about every subject under the sun, getting into friendly debates that often escalated into heated arguments. He got to sample all of Hunk’s new dishes, which always tasted amazing. In return, he would help him gather fresh ingredients from the wild, as well as buying some from the local farmers they passed. When he was with Hunk, Lance felt his dream become less futile. It had meaning again.  
  
"So, what's your goal, Lance?" Hunk asked one day while they stopped by a river to gather fresh water.  
  
Lance didn't answer immediately, thinking his response over. "It's more of a dream than a goal," he said finally. "I saw a royal entourage pass by my family's farm once. Ever since then, I knew I wanted to be something more than just another serf working the land. So I'm going to the castle to see what I can do about my destiny."  
  
"Sounds good," Hunk laughed, sealing the flask of water. "Speaking of, I think the castle looks a little bit closer today."  
  
"You think?" asked Lance, shading his eyes against the sun and peering over at the dark structure in the distance. It did look slightly larger. "You're right!" he cheered.  
  
Elated by this prospect, the two picked up the pace. By the time the sun began to set, they had already made it to the next small village.  
  
"What's going on over there?" Lance asked, frowning. There was a huge crowd of villagers gathered around something. They could hear shouting and jeering, as well as muted cries of pain. Lance hurried over, pushing his way through the crowd. Hunk followed, murmuring apologies behind him. When they reached the front of the crowd, they saw a small child curled up on the ground with several people kicking and shouting at him. Lance couldn't believe his eyes. The kid was huddled with his face pressed into his knees, absorbing the kicks with only a few pained noises. The villagers were unrelenting, anger evident in their shouts.  
  
"Stop!" Lance shouted, pushing aside some of the people, trying to hold them back from their abuse. "What the heck are you doing?"  
  
"Burn the witch!" the villager spat, repelling Lance easily.  
  
Hunk ran over and scooped up the child, shielding the furious assault from the villagers. "This is just a kid!" he protested. The mob gave no sign they had heard and continued to try and break Hunk's hold on the boy. Lance shoved more villagers out of the way, but the crowd was much larger and stronger as a whole. They had no choice but to flee, screams of "Burn the witch!" floating after them as the disorganised crowd tried to give chase.  
  
When they had run what they deemed to be a safe distance away, Hunk gently deposited the kid into the grass. Somewhere along the way, he had passed out from the pain, but was thankfully still breathing.  
  
"What on earth was that all about?!" Lance panted, bent over as he tried to regain his breath. "What did they mean, witch? This little squirt doesn’t look like he could hurt anyone."  
  
At that moment, the kid's eyes fluttered open dazedly.  
  
"Are you okay?" Hunk asked gently, already rooting through his bag for the small pack of medical supplies he carried.  
  
The child coughed violently, curling over on his side and doubling over in pain. When he finally drew in a long, ragged breath, Lance helped him sit up.  
  
"What did you do..?" he whispered.  
  
"Don't worry! You're safe now!" Lance grinned, sweeping his hair back. "I'm Lance, your dashing rescuer. And Hunk is over there; he helped. Who are you? And why were they calling you a witch?"  
  
The kid looked over at the river they were sitting beside, silent for a long time, watching the flowing water course over the rocks. Finally, he spoke.  
  
"My name is Pidge." He hesitated slightly. "They were calling me a witch because...because they think I was practising magic."  
  
"Were you?" Hunk asked hesitantly.  
  
"I don't know," Pidge said quietly. "I've always been good with my hands, but just recently, I've been able to manipulate nature in a way that suits me. The villagers found out and convicted me to burn to death as a witch."  
  
Lance shook his head. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Just because you have a special ability doesn't mean you should be punished for it.” An idea occurred to him and he grinned. “Why don't you come with us instead?"  
  
Hunk pulled out his medical supplies. "Yeah! We can't just leave you now. Want to be part of the team, Pidge?"  
  
Pidge's expression was guarded and he looked as if he was scrutinising them closely, but he gave a small smile. "I don’t have a choice otherwise. It's not like I can go back. My family isn't there anymore." He winced as he touched one of the many bruises blooming on his arms and stomach. "But I don't know if I'll make it very far."  
  
"Worry not, my good man," Lance declared. "It turns out Hunk is pretty well prepared - he's got everything in that bag! He'll get you patched up in no time."  
  
Hunk nodded, already preparing a poultice out of some herbs. "This will soothe the pain for now. Your body with have to heal on its own, though."  
  
"Thanks." Pidge smiled weakly, accepting the cloths smeared with the paste that Hunk passed him and beginning to wrap them around the bruises. “You guys didn’t have to-”  
  
“Shhh,” Lance hissed, suddenly alert. There was a noise coming from the direction of the village they had just fled from. It sounded similar to the angry shouting from before.  
  
“They’re coming this way,” he said, quickly pulling all their stuff together.  
  
“Can you walk?” Hunk asked Pidge gently.  
  
He nodded, struggling to his feet. Hunk quickly leaned down to support him, tensing for a second as his hands ghosted over Pidge’s small body. He quickly shook it off and held the boy steady.  
  
“We have to go!” Lance urged, throwing the bags onto his back and hurrying them onwards. “Somewhere where they don’t expect us to run to.”  
  
They managed to cut through the shallow river to cover their tracks and dart into a nearby forest, where the trees were growing densely. A few steps into the forest, and they were completely engulfed in darkness.  
  
“Did we lose them?” Hunk, who had resorted to just carrying Pidge, whispered.  
  
“I think so,” Lance said, glancing behind him, eyes finally adjusting to the gloomy darkness. “I can’t hear anything.”  
  
“Me neither.” Hunk waited a beat before continuing. “Do you think we should stay here tonight, just in case?”  
  
Lance bit his lip. “Seems like the best thing to do while we wait for things to breeze over. Pidge, how’re you doing?”  
  
Pidge laughed weakly. “Just peachy.”  
  
“Sarcasm intact, I see,” Lance said, rolling his eyes, a smile unfolding on his face. He could already tell that Pidge would be a great addition to their team. Plus they could help him recover from his injuries, which was just an added bonus.  
  
Hunk gently set Pidge down in the crook of a tree on the ground, which almost seemed to fold around him protectively. Hunk went scrabbling around for leaves to make a softer sitting place for all of them. Lance, meanwhile, started setting up sleeping areas, trying not to let the spooky surroundings get to him. The sudden hoot of an owl or buzz of a large bug caused him to nearly jump out of his skin every time it happened. But he tried to keep a positive attitude. They had saved a life today, and that was a good deed.  
  
Nothing like doing good deeds to feel good about yourself, Lance thought, trying to cheer himself up. And we found a new person to travel with. Everything is going to be great.  
  
When he finished setting up, he returned to Hunk’s side. The larger man had taken out a few provisions and shared them with Pidge; he tossed some to Lance as well when he sat down beside him.  
  
“So what’s the plan?” Lance asked, devouring the food.  
  
Hunk sighed worriedly. “The ideal course of action would be to clean up Pidge as much as we can and then get him as far away from here as possible. We can still head in the general direction of the castle, but the priority would have to be getting him away from those crazy people. Uh, and there’s one other thing…”  
  
“Oh?” Lance asked curiously.  
  
Hunk looked ashamed. “Not to spread rumours or anything, because I really don’t want to do that, especially about someone we just met and want to befriend - but Pidge is really frail, and he wouldn’t let me look at any of the bruises under his shirt, and uh... There are reasons why I think he might actually be a she.”  
  
Lance shrugged nonchalantly, trying to cover up his slight shock. “Doesn’t matter to me. It would make more sense, actually, seeing as they were calling her a witch. Besides, this is a journey of self discovery.” He grinned. “Everyone is welcome.”  
  
Hunk smiled, looking relieved. “Alright, then. But don’t confront her about it, okay?”  
  
“I would never!” Lance put a hand to his chest, acting offended.  
  
Hunk laughed, visibly more at ease. “Alright. I think it’s time we get some rest, anyway. Goodnight, then.”  
  
“Goodnight, buddy,” Lance said, stretching out on his back and trying to glimpse the stars through the trees.  
  
As he drifted off, his thoughts naturally gravitated back to his family. He wondered if his mother was still doing the spinning, stretching out the sheep wool and spinning it into comfortable clothes for his whole family. He wondered if his father had taken the plow out with the oxen today. Something in him longed to see that again, to do his part with his siblings, to feel safe and protected by the king that owned the land they worked on.It had been three months since he had seen their faces.  
  
He shook his head against these thoughts. Although he had found solace in that life before, he knew there was something better to be obtained in life. He was going to go to the castle, and he was going to prove it to everyone who told him serfs could never be anything that he could be something. And that something was in his reach; he could practically feel it already. There was just the small issue of deciding what it was.  
  
That was Lance’s last thought as he closed his eyes and gave himself to the darkness of sleep.  
  
\--------------  
  
“AKIRA!”  
  
Zarkon’s roar once again travelled through the castle, sending servants scurrying to escape his wrath. One politely knocked on Keith’s door to (unnecessarily) tell him that the king wanted him down in the meeting hall.  
  
Keith nervously made his way through the wide, empty halls, practically feeling his father’s rage thrum through the stone walls. He guessed that the meeting with King Alfor had not gone well. He had been thankful for a chance to see Allura and Shiro again, but his father was always in a terrible mood after the visits. It almost made Keith wish that they would stop coming over, since Zarkon always took it out on him afterwards.  
  
He quietly entered the meeting hall, seeing his father seated at the head of the table. He took the seat on his left, staying silent with his head bowed, heart beating a tattoo on his chest.  
  
Zarkon let him sit anxiously for another minute before finally speaking. “King Alfor agreed to send part of his army over to help crush the slave rebellion.”  
  
Keith felt a pang of frantic excitement. Good news for once meant that he probably wouldn’t be punished.  
  
Zarkon scowled, displeased, quashing any hope that Keith may have harboured. “That fool thinks I don't know what he’s up to. Once he sends the army, he will turn against mine in our moment of weakness and take over my kingdom. I cannot allow that to happen.”  
  
Keith kept his head down, praying feverishly that Zarkon would not bid him to raise it. His hands were shaking.  
  
“Your continuous consorting with the enemy prince and princess has me very suspicious.” The king’s voice had gone deathly quiet. “Do you know what we do to traitors around here, boy?”  
  
Keith swallowed hard. “I’m not a traitor,” he managed.  
  
“You dare speak to me in such a way?” Zarkon hissed. “You dare tell me that I am wrong? You think you know all?”  
  
“You are wrong,” Keith said desperately, all instincts telling him to flee, yet staying rooted to the high-backed chair. “I’m not a traitor.”  
  
“I will not tolerate this from you any longer, child!” the king spat. “Leave my sight. Tomorrow I will have Haggar prepare your...punishment.”  
  
The way his tone darkened at the word punishment made Keith terrified for his life.  
  
“I said out of my sight!"  
  
Keith quickly slipped out of the chair and exited the room as fast as he could without running. His mind was reeling as he dashed back to his room once he was out of sight. His father was surely planning on beating him into submission so badly, there would be no chance of him resisting, even though he knew Zarkon was just paranoid; there was no way that Alfor would declare war on him.  
  
Keith swallowed hard, a sudden idea coming to him. I’m going to run away, he thought with a sort of frightened resolve. I have to get out of here.  
  
Whatever the punishment was, he wouldn’t be there to receive it in the morning. Tonight was the night that he was finally going to escape the tyranny of his father.  
  
Making it to his large room, he began throwing essential items into a bag. After a moment’s hesitation, he included a short dagger with an odd inscription on it, the last remnant of his mother that he owned. He mentally started a list of what he needed to do before escaping. His movements were mechanical as his mind ran over every possibility, every obstacle. But he knew one thing for sure.  
  
He was getting out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has read, commented, and left a kudos on this work!

As dawn tinged the horizon with red, Keith looked back one last time at the castle walls bathed in shadow, and said a silent goodbye. There would be times he would miss, like visiting with Shiro and Allura. But he was done with Zarkon’s abuse. Starting today, he would be the master of his own destiny.  
  
He slipped through the grounds, light weight of his bag thankfully not hindering him, and finally managed to make it to the edge of the castle’s land. He had memorised the guards’ routes after years of watching them, so it was easy to find the gaps and hurry through. A few harrowing minutes later, he was completely out of sight of any of them.  
  
He breathed a silent sigh of relief as he faced the lush green fields and lazily winding dirt paths stretching beyond the castle. It was more open space than he had ever seen in his sheltered life.  
It was only then that he realised that he had nowhere to go. He knew no one, no place, and nothing else in between behind the castle walls. His only course of action was to pick a direction and start walking. For his own security, he strapped the knife to his belt and set off down one of the roads, walking at a steady pace, heart free and singing.  
  
He did this for a while, seeing nothing but the sun slowly starting to rise in the sky. He kept track of how much time was passing through it; it was only after the sun had reached its peak that he first felt fatigued.  
  
He dug through his pack until he had pulled out a water gourd and an apple. He figured they would be enough to tide him for the time being. It's kind of fun to take care of myself, he thought, grinning. I can get used to this.  
  
Sitting off to the side of the path, he ate his food and let his mind run overtime. Now that he was alone, he had way too much time to think. He refused to regret his decision, however. Keith was determined that this was the right choice.  
  
A bird flew by, chirping happily. Keith smiled at the sight. Just like that bird, he was free to go wherever he wanted. The only problem was that he didn’t know where to go.  
Sloughing off his jacket, he stretched out on his back and stared at the clouds. Sighing, he closed his eyes. Might as well sit here and think for a bit, he thought. He didn’t realise his mistake, and by then it was too late; he slipped into a dreamless sleep below the scorching sun.  
  
\--------------  
  
Once Hunk had woken Lance and Pidge, who was feeling much better the next morning, they deemed it was safe to exit the forest. It seemed that they had been well protected; the angry horde of villagers was nowhere to be seen or heard. Silence stretched on for kilometres, broken only by the chirping of the birds' dawn chorus.  
  
Hunk helped Pidge change the cloth bandages. As he did so, they had a whispered conversation, Pidge looking a bit uncomfortable, but Hunk's face understanding. Lance attempted to eavesdrop on them, climbing the tree above them and hanging down, just out of sight.  
  
“-orry for not telling you before,” Pidge was mumbling to Hunk. “I was afraid you two would kick me out too.”  
  
“It’s alright,” Hunk smiled. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Are you going to tell Lance?”  
  
“Tell me what?” Lance asked loudly, dropping out of the tree. Hunk nearly jumped out of his skin and Pidge looked affronted that he was spying on them.  
  
“Good God, you scared the life out of me,” Hunk breathed out, trying to calm his frayed nerves. “Why were you up there?”  
  
“You guys were talking without me,” Lance pouted.  
  
Pidge frowned. “That’s because we didn’t want you to hear. But it doesn’t really matter anyway; I was going to tell you after. I’m a girl. And I’m sorry that I wasn’t clear about that earlier. I’m not a witch, or at least I’m pretty sure I’m not… But anyway, yeah. Sorry.”  
  
Lance laughed. “That’s all? No big deal, don’t worry. We wouldn’t save you and then just turn on you right after! That's not what heroes do!” He puffed out his chest.  
  
Pidge smiled gratefully. “Thanks. And thanks for letting me join you guys, too.”  
  
“Don’t mention it.” Lance waved his arm in the air in a carefree manner. “How about we get going? Pidge, we’re making our way to the castle to fulfil our dreams. Do you have any sort of goal like that?”  
Pidge furrowed her brow. “I guess I can use my gift to help someone somewhere in the world. I’m kinda worried about being burnt at the stake, though. And...I want to find my family. They're missing.”  
  
“I’m sure you’ll find something at the castle,” Lance promised. “It’s the place where anything could happen. We might even be able to get information on your family!”  
  
Hunk stood and extended a hand to Pidge, who accepted it. He hauled her up, and surprisingly, she managed to stay on her feet.  
  
After making sure they had everything, they navigated between the thick trees, the sun shining through the canopy and dappling the ground with bits of its light. Lance made sure to get a full view of the beautiful sight, since he had never seen anything like it before, spending most of his life on entirely flat land with few trees. They eventually emerged from the forest, noting first that a small dirt road was visible from the spot. In the distance, the castle still loomed, impassive as ever.  
  
"Should we follow this?" Lance asked Hunk.  
  
"Might as well," Hunk agreed, shrugging.  
  
On the way, they stopped to reapply Pidge's medicine twice, but never came across a building or an area in which Hunk deemed safe to rest. Finally, a squat hut just ahead caught their attention.  
  
Before either of them could speak, Hunk piped up. "I'll go in and gather information. You guys wait here, alright? Pidge isn't in any shape to meet the locals, and Lance, you should stay here and watch her, okay?"  
  
Without leaving room to argue, he hurried towards the building.  
  
Pidge dropped to the ground tiredly and folded her legs, fiddling with her bandages. Lance sat next to her, absentmindedly pulling on a loose thread from his shirt.  
"So. What's up?" He winced at his own pathetic attempt at conversation.  
  
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Not much. I was just attacked by my own village, damned as a witch, and chased out of my home to be burnt after getting attacked. How about you?"  
  
Lance decided to take the question as sincere. "I got fed up with the monotony of daily farm life, defied my village and left home to travel to the castle," he said, flopping onto his back and crossing his arms behind his head.  
  
"If you were accepted where you lived, why would you leave?" Pidge asked, copying his actions.  
  
"Like I said, there's something more destined for me than just plowing and planting. I want to do something big."  
  
"Mmkay," Pidge grunted, shifting so that her bandages didn't chafe. "It's cool that you believe in that destiny stuff."  
  
Before the silence could become awkward, Hunk burst out of the hut, a few chunks of sharp objects flying out behind him.  
  
"Thanks a lot!" he shouted back, getting a few yells in return.  
  
Lance popped up to his feet, grinning. "Hunk, my man! What did you find out?"  
  
Hunk frowned worriedly. "Apparently the roads are getting more dangerous these days. There's been an increase in bandits, and everyone's on edge because of the brewing civil war against King Zarkon."  
Lance helped Pidge to her feet. "Does that mean that we can't go to the castle?"  
  
Hunk shook his head. "We can still try, but it would be a good idea to get some way of defending ourselves. We don't want to be helpless victims if we do run into bandits."  
  
"I don't know if I can afford a weapon," Lance admitted. "They're really expensive, aren't they?"  
  
Pidge's eyes brightened. "You don't have to buy one. I'm pretty handy with building that kind of stuff, remember? I could make one, easy."  
  
Hunk tilted his head. "How do you build a weapon without metal?"  
  
Pidge smirked. "How do you two feel about using bows?"  
  
Lance shared a look with Hunk. “Bows?”  
  
After finding another stand of trees and knocking one down with the axe that was leaning against the hut that Hunk had ‘borrowed’, Lance set to work on chopping it into the small pieces Pidge needed.  
  
She whittled the wood with a small dagger she had on her as if it was the easiest thing in the world, carving it down to make the individual pieces of the bows. Lance, when his job was finished, hovered over her, admiring the skill. Hunk kept fiddling with the little pieces, looking amazed that they would all fit together to make an effective weapon. Pidge had to reprimand them both several times, until she got fed up enough to send them away.  
  
“Let me work in peace,” she said, annoyed, turning away from them.  
  
They went to sit a little farther away, in the shade, as the heat of the day was starting to get to them.  
  
“Don’t we need metal for the arrows?” Lance asked idly, shading his eyes to look up at the sun, which was now in position high above their heads. "Or do you use, like, stones?"  
  
Hunk frowned. “I don’t have anything like that. Do you?”  
  
Lance groaned dramatically. “Can you go search for some? I’m too hot.” He fanned himself as a demonstration.  
  
Hunk rolled his eyes and hauled himself to his feet. He inspected the ground around the tavern. Seeing a glinting piece on the ground, he delightedly remembered that the people inside had tried to murder him by impaling him with their broken weapons. “Thank you for the free metal,” he murmured, gathering up the shards.  
  
“Pidge, do you need these?” he asked, carefully approaching her.  
  
She glowered at him, angry at being interrupted, but her expression quickly changed into a smile after seeing what he was bringing her. “Thanks, I do need that. Also, do you have some rope? Preferably whipcord? I need it for the bridle.”  
  
Hunk dug into his bag and extracted a length of rope he kept around for emergencies. “Will this work?”  
  
“Good enough,” she said, swiping it from him. “Now go away. I need to tie this correctly. Also, could you guys start a fire? I’m going to need to make the metal more malleable.”  
  
“In this heat?” Hunk asked, fearing the answer.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
He dragged himself back over to Lance. “Start a fire.”  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
“A fire,” Hunk repeated. “Pidge needs it.”  
  
Lance scowled. “Fine, but if I die, I’m blaming you two. Bury me with the phrase ‘Too hot to handle’ on my tombstone. Get it? Because I’m so hot.”  
  
He pulled off his shirt to give himself the false illusion that it wouldn’t be as sweltering and began to gather the sticks needed for a small fire and cleared a spot on the ground. Grabbing the flint out of his bag, he hit it until a small spark ignited the fire Pidge needed.  
  
“Thanks,” she said, coming over with the metal. “Do you have gloves of some kind? I don’t want to burn my hands.”  
  
Lance pulled out some gloves that his mother had spun for him long ago. He loved them dearly, but wanted to be helpful to their new friend. “Don’t burn them, either, please.”  
  
Pidge grabbed them and the metal. “Thanks. Now go away.”  
  
Lance crawled back into the shade. He flopped on his back and groaned. “Are you done yet?” he called.  
  
“Lance, if you start that, I swear I will shoot you with this crossbow when it's done.”  
  
“Better not,” Hunk whispered.  
  
Lance sighed. Once he closed his eyes, it was hard to open them again. He eventually wiggled around and got comfortable for a nap in the cool grass.  
  
Some time later, he woke to a hard poke in the side. “Get up.”  
  
He sat upright, rubbing his eyes. “What?”  
  
“Put on your shirt,” Hunk said, throwing it at him. “It’s night and cold again. Also, Pidge finished the bows.”  
  
“That’s great,” Lance said, rubbing his eyes. “Do I get to shoot people with it?”  
  
“She wants us to test them out first. Um, probably not on a person, though,” Hunk clarified.  
  
Lance ambled over to where Pidge was sitting and checking over the two bows one last time. “Lovely,” he said, accepting it when she handed it over.  
  
“Try to hit that spot on the tree there,” Pidge said, smirking. “I want to see how good of a shot you are in the dark. To fire, you have to push this rod-” She handed him a thin cylinder of metal- “into that hole to release the rope.”  
  
“No problem. I could hit it from way farther,” Lance said confidently. He held the bow close to his face and focused. The dark tree on which the target sat was in the dead centre of his vision. He took a deep breath, and-  
  
_Thwack._  
  
“That was...pretty close, actually,” Pidge said, inspecting the bolt, which was bristling from the tree just a few centimetres off of the spot she had at first indicated.  
  
Lance punched the air. “Told you I could do it!”  
  
Pidge rolled her eyes. “Hunk, you’re up. I made yours a little bigger, so you’ll have to account for that.”  
  
Hunk switched places with Lance and took his longbow, which was a lot heavier. He closed one eye, trying to gauge how to hit the target.  
  
_Twang._  
  
The bolt whipped through the still night air and embedded itself a little ways above the target.  
  
“Not bad, seeing as you two probably haven’t wielded anything like this before,” Pidge said, grinning. “I also used the leftover materials to make myself a weapon of sorts, but because I didn’t have much to work with, I’m not really sure what it’s supposed to be.” She displayed it, revealing an odd sort of triangle-shaped hunk of metal. “It has sort of a blunt edge,” she observed, swinging it around.  
  
Lance dodged as she pretended to swing it at him. “Alright, alright. Now that we’re all decked out, can we keep going?”  
  
“Lance, it’s like, the dead of night,” Hunk reminded him. “We’ll go in the morning.”  
  
Lance sighed. “Okay, okay.” He wasn't tired after his nap, and the thrill of getting a new weapon kept him buzzing with energy.  
  
Once they had gotten all settled down, Lance crept to the edge of the stand of trees, where he could see the twinkling stars. He imagined his mother looking up at the same stars as him. “Hey, mom,” he whispered. “I hope things are still going okay back at home. I’ve been doing pretty well, too. Hunk and Pidge are good friends.”  
  
He fell silent, listening to the whirring of some distant bug.  
  
“I promise I’ll come back,” he murmured. “You two don’t have to worry about me. I’m going to do great things, and then I’m going to come back and free you guys from having to work so hard all day. I love you guys.”  
  
His voice drifted into the air, a wispy promise to the cold stars above.  
  
That morning, Lance was first to wake. He quietly packed up his stuff and leaned up against a tree until the others had also awoken. They were on their way shortly after. The sun was still holding back, so it wasn’t quite as hot as the previous day yet. Still, Lance was glad when they saw another silhouette of a small building, eager for a chance to rest.  
  
Glancing at the small tavern, Hunk bit his lip. "I don't think you two should go inside," he admitted.  
  
Lance raised an eyebrow. "Again? What's wrong? Is it full of ravenous werewolves or something?"  
  
"Close enough," Hunk agreed nervously. "Look, they know me in places like this, so I'll be fine. But they'll think you guys are easy prey since you've never been in there before. Plus, you're both..."  
  
"Both what?" Lance demanded.  
  
Pidge raised her fists. "I will fight you."  
  
Hunk laughed nervously. "They're just a bit   
  
Pidge scoffed. "How bad can they be?"  
  
Hunk levelled a glare at the both of them, finished with joking around. "Just stay here. I'll be right out again, okay?"  
  
He strode to the entrance, checking that he had his longbow loaded before slipping through the door.  
  
Lance scowled. "I'm not staying outside waiting for him to get hurt in there. Pidge, you stay over there behind that bush, okay? I'm going in."  
  
"Good luck," Pidge frowned, nevertheless moving to where he pointed out, most likely for the shade, rather than the shelter it provided.  
  
Lance grabbed his crossbow, loaded it, pushed open the doors, and his jaw dropped.  
  
"Hunk wasn't kidding when he said these guys were like animals," he whispered to himself, observing the whole of the tavern yelling, cheering, and demanding blood. They were all crowded around two people in the centre.  
  
"What are you doing here?" a voice hissed behind him.  
  
Whirling around, Lance nearly fired the bow before seeing who it was.  
  
"Hunk?" he whispered in relief.  
  
"I told you not to come in," Hunk frowned, looking down at his weapon.  
  
"What are they doing?" Lance asked, pointedly ignoring him, trying to get a glimpse of the action.  
  
"I think there's a fight going on. This was a bad time to show up."  
  
By standing on his very tiptoes, Lance was able to see over the others' heads. A big, sweaty guy was swinging a long knife all over the place. And his opponent-  
  
Lance's breath constricted. The other fighter was no older than he, and he was much different from the unwashed masses crowded in the tavern. Lance couldn't explain it, but there was something entirely different about him. He definitely didn’t belong in a knife fight like this.  
  
"We need to stop that fight," he said, taking even himself by surprise. He shoved his bow at Hunk and pulled over a stool from the bar.  
  
"What? No!" Hunk grabbed his shoulder. "Lance, these people are ruthless, drunk, adult men that’re thirsty for blood. They will not hesitate to rip you to pieces if you interrupt them. Did I mention they were adults? So like, a lot stronger than us. Lance? Lance, stop!"  
  
Lance positioned the stool and stood on it, blocking out Hunk’s cries. He cleared his throat, and raised his arms to the crowd.  
  
\--------------  
  
When he woke up, Keith could feel his arms stinging. Looking at them blearily, he noticed they were way redder than normal.  
  
Glancing up at the descending sun, he surmised that he had slept for the whole rest of the day. Of course. Gathering all his stuff together, he decided there was nothing to do but keep walking.  
  
After a couple hours, in which the sun slipped below the horizon completely and it was beginning to feel a little chilly, Keith finally spotted a dark smudge on the horizon. Once he got a bit closer, he could see that it was a short, squat building, the doors thrown open invitingly. Loud shouting, flickering firelight, and laughter spilled out of it.  
  
Cautiously pushing his way into the building, Keith cast his gaze around the room. Men were sitting at large tables, telling stories and trading jokes. Women weaved around the chaos, carrying drinks and food and dropping them onto the tables. In all, it was a loud, crazy scene, and Keith was in awe of it.  
  
He had never seen such coarseness, growing up in a royal court. Every situation was prim and proper there, while here it was loose and easygoing. No one cared whether they were getting food all over themselves or if they were conducting proper table manners. They were just content to be enjoying themselves with their friends.  
  
As he backed away from a particularly raucous gathering, Keith accidentally knocked over a silvery jug in the corner, which make quite the racket as it fell and shattered on the floor. All eyes in the tavern turned to Keith as he scrambled to pick up the glass pieces of the jug.  
  
He could feel his face reddening more than it already was, not used to so many people’s gazes judging him. Usually he was seated in a position above them, so he didn’t often have to worry about being the target of their hostility.  
  
One large man strode over and inspected Keith with a little too much interest. “First time seein’ you here,” he rumbled, turning to face his buddies, raising an eyebrow at their calls of agreement. He turned back to Keith, leering. “What’s a pretty face like you doin’ at a dump like this?” His breath stank of alcohol.  
  
Keith backed into the wall, trying to distance himself from the man. “I’m not doing anything wrong,” he said cooly. “I didn’t know what this place was.”  
  
The man laughed cruelly. “The kid’s new,” he informed the others, who were all jeering and catcalling.  
  
Apprehension filled Keith’s chest until it hurt to breathe. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to take this guy in a fight. “I’ll just leave, then,” he said, attempting to appear confident, edging towards the door.  
  
“Don’t leave yet! We was just gettin’ started!” the man exclaimed amid shouted agreements. He sported a lecherous grin. “How’s about we teach you just what we do ‘round here, eh?”  
  
“Yeah, teach him, Skull!” one of the other men shouted, echoed by everyone else, the noise filling the room until it felt like it would burst.  
  
Skull grabbed Keith’s arm, grip painfully tight, and pulled him to the middle of the room. The other men stood and began yelling, cheering, and throwing food as the tension in the room spiked.  
  
The air was violently pushed out of Keith’s lungs as he was forced roughly to the floor, arms pinned behind his back. His heart pounded wildly as he struggled against the man’s strong grip. He wasn’t prepared for anything like this; back at the castle, no one would have dared to lay a finger on him. Now here he was, unrecognised as royalty and treated with as much importance as a clod of dirt.  
  
Skull grabbed his hair roughly and shoved his head against the ground. Keith gritted his teeth and concentrated on inching his hand towards the knife still strapped to his belt. Unnoticed, he managed to grasp the hilt. The man drew back, preparing to strike once again, leaving Keith unpinned. Keith used the opportunity and managed to whirl to his feet and face the man, dagger drawn and at the ready. “Stay away from me,” he warned, voice low and brimming with anger.  
  
Skull guffawed. “So the boy has some spirit in ‘im after all.”  
  
One of the men tossed Skull a long, jagged-edged knife. Skull twirled it in his hand and smirked at Keith. “Ya wanna play, then?”  
  
Keith got into a ready stance. “Bring it on,” he challenged, eyes narrowed.  
  
Skull moved unnaturally fast for an inebriated man. Keith managed to dodge his first few strikes, but they were much too close for comfort. He knew he couldn't keep this up for long without either getting seriously wounded or getting mauled by the increasingly impatient crowd, who were baying for blood.  
  
He attempted to slash at Skull’s leg, but Skull danced out of the way, smirking. Without warning, he backhanded Keith across the face, knocking him onto the ground.  
  
Keith, ignoring the blood now running down his cheek, jumped to his feet and plunged his dagger towards Skull’s stomach. It was promptly blocked.  
  
His opponent raised his arm; the sharp end of his knife flashed, and Keith instinctively threw his weapon up to catch the blade. With a screech of metal on metal, he managed to catch it and hold it back, centimetres from his face. The sensitive skin on his arms stung in protest, as did his muscles.  
  
Skull pushed down on the blade, strength slowly overpowering Keith’s. He was forcing the blade lower and lower, closer to Keith’s face. He flaunted a cruel grin, eyes taunting. It took everything Keith had to hold back the jagged edge; his arms shook violently as he used every bit of strength he possessed.  
  
Just when Keith was sure his arms would give out completely, a voice rang out.  
  
“Gentlemen, gentlemen. Surely there’s a better way to solve your problem?”  
  
Keith glanced up in surprise, the crushing weight suddenly lifting from his arms as his opponent did the same. The speaker, who was standing on a stool to look over the crowd, was a tall, older teen with dark skin and hair. He had an easy smile on his face and his arms were raised in a calming motion.  
  
Skull grimaced. “Who the hell are you?”  
  
The teen shot a dazzling smile at the two. “I’m Lance. Now, how about we talk this out like civil human beings?”  
  
Skull snorted. He was about to turn away, but then he noticed a larger man behind the teen. “Hunk? What’re you doin’ with this idiot?” he said incredulously.  
  
Hunk said nothing, creases of worry visible on his forehead.  
  
Keith started to back away slowly. If those two continued to draw everyone’s attention, it would be easy to make his escape.  
  
Unfortunately, Skull noticed. His hand shot out, catching Keith’s elbow in a death grip. “You’re not goin’ anywhere,” he growled.  
  
Lance stepped forward. “Let him go,” he ordered.  
  
Skull promptly spat in his face.  
  
Lance was frozen for a second. Then, a grin spread onto his face as he wiped it off. “Hunk, if you please?” he asked, holding his hand out.  
  
Hunk grudgingly handed over an odd contraption to Lance, who loaded it with an pointed stick of some kind.  
  
“I’m sorry it had to come to this,” he lamented dramatically - and then swiftly shot Skull in the leg.  
  
“What the hell?!” roared the man, letting both Keith and his own knife go to clutch at his wounded leg.  
  
He glared daggers at Lance, who was looking extremely pleased with himself as the teen hopped down from the stool and scooped up the dangerous knife. “I’ll kill you!” he roared.  
  
Hunk stepped forward, bearing a much bigger-looking bow. “I hate to do this,” he said sincerely, pointing the bow directly at Skull’s chest.  
  
Recognising that he was sorely outnumbered and weaponless, Skull growled a few curses. “This isn’t the end,” he threatened, standing carefully and backing up, melting into the crowd. Seeing the fierce man humbled so, the others, many of whom had neglected to bring weapons, hastily cleared out as well, leaving the tavern much sparser than before.  
  
Lance offered a hand to Keith, smiling. “You were really in trouble there. Good thing Hunk and I came along, or you would have been toast!”  
  
Keith grabbed his hand and allowed himself to be pulled up, wincing at the new bruises on his body.  
  
Lance surveyed him carefully. “Hey, are you okay?”  
  
Keith wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. “I had it under control,” he muttered. Stuffing the knife back into his belt, he turned on his heel and stalked towards the exit, eager to leave the place behind.  
  
“Suuure,” Lance, hurrying after him, said, sounding quite unconvinced. He fell into step next to him.  
  
Keith scowled. “Why are you following me?”  
  
Lance raised an eyebrow. “It looks like you’re all alone. That’s pretty dangerous around these parts.”  
  
Keith said nothing, but shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “I'm fine being alone,” he said eventually.  
  
“Tell you what,” Lance said casually. “Let’s start over. Hi, I’m Lance. My buds are back there, at the tavern. Do you want to travel with us? It’ll be a lot safer, plus Hunk makes food to die for.”  
  
Keith couldn’t help but hesitate at the mention of food. He was already feeling the effects of overwhelming hunger, unused to having to ration his meals.  
  
Lance chuckled. “No one can resist Hunk’s meals. Plus, we’ve got a this crazy lunatic, Pidge. She’s pretty good at building stuff, like these crossbows, and she's actually smart, unlike the rest of us. You can join us! It’ll be like a happy little family.”  
  
Keith stopped short, meeting Lance’s eyes for the first time. Once he had, however, it was extremely hard to look away.  
  
Lance halted, noticing Keith had done the same. “You know, family. People with close bonds? People who stick together through thick and thin? That kind of thing. Don’t you have a family?”  
  
Keith finally broke his gaze and turned it to the ground instead. He wouldn’t quite describe King Zarkon as ‘family’. His mother was gone, and the closest he had to siblings were Allura and Shiro, whom he only saw every once in awhile.  
  
Lance’s gaze softened. “You can be part of our family,” he promised. "Come on, I'll take you to 'em."  
  
He grabbed Keith's arm and began pulling him back to the building.  
  
Keith winced internally as his burns and his bruises both screamed in protest at being handled so roughly. He yanked his arm away, frowning. "I can walk by myself."  
  
Lance's smile faltered. "Right. Sorry."  
  
They made it back after a period of awkward silence.  
  
Hunk was looking around for Lance, panic clear on his face. Pidge was lounging near the now mostly empty tavern, fiddling with something in her hands.  
  
"Lance!" Hunk said, relief flooding his features. "Where did you go?"  
  
"Just rescuing a damsel in distress," Lance grinned, winking at Keith. "Knife boy here has agreed to join our little party."  
  
Keith glared at him incredulously. "Damsel? Knife boy?"  
  
"What else am I going to call you? You didn't offer me your name when I gave you mine." Lance looked at him expectantly.  
  
Keith cast his eyes down, worried. He wondered if his name was known among the commoners, or if it would be safe to reveal it. He didn't want any of these people to know he was the prince, seeing as they would probably treat him differently. He just wanted to be seen as a normal human, just like them.  
  
"My name is Keith," he said, extending his hand, pleased when it didn't elicit any reaction or recognition from them.  
  
Lance reached out with a smile and clasped it. Instead of letting go, he quickly pulled up Keith's jacket sleeve.  
  
"What are you-"  
  
"Just as I thought," Lance mused, poking Keith's arm. "People as pale as you shouldn't sit in the sun for too long. What, have you never gone outside before? You're all burnt."  
  
"I just made a mistake," Keith muttered.  
  
"Right. Hunk, do you still have that salve?"  
  
Hunk nodded quickly, digging through his bag. "This should help," he promised, handing it to Keith. "You might want to put some on your face, too. It's kind of - okay, it's really bruised."  
  
"Thanks," Keith murmured, discarding his jacket to apply the cream. He guessed wearing a black shirt hadn't helped him much on such a sunny day, as well.  
  
Lance swallowed, turning away. "Right. Um, so when do you guys want to get going again?"  
  
"Shouldn't we at least tell Keith where we're headed?" Pidge piped up. "I'm Pidge by the way."  
  
"Nice to meet you."  
  
"Oh, yeah. Keith, we're on a journey to the castle. You still coming with?"  
  
Keith froze. "The castle?"  
  
Lance tilted his head. "Yeah, you know. That giant stone building in the distance where the king and the prince live, all safe and happy? We're going there to make a name for ourselves. You in?"  
  
Keith cursed his luck. It would be dangerous to go, but it would be equally as dangerous to stay. Maybe he would tag along just for a while, before they made it to their destination. "...Yeah, I'm in."  
  
"Great! And on that note, you might need a better weapon than a knife to defend yourself. We heard that bandits have become more common in the past few weeks. Also apparently bar fights are a thing."  
  
Keith frowned. He didn't have much practise with other types of weapons. He had fencing lessons back at the castle, but finding a sword would be difficult.  
  
"You could search the tavern," Lance suggested slyly. "Someone might have left something behind."  
  
Keith nodded, carefully making his way back in. The bartender glanced at him fearfully, then quickly lowered his head, keeping an eye on the glass and rag in his hands.  
  
After scouring under all the dirty tables and chairs, Keith had all but given up - until the glint of metal caught his attention. Propped up right in the back corner of the bar was a silver blade with a ruby hilt, making the whole thing almost glow red in the dim lighting.  
  
"Can I have this?" he asked the bartender, grasping the hilt. It fit his grip perfectly.  
  
"Take whatever you want!" the man cried. "Just don't hurt me!"  
  
"I'm not going to hurt you, calm down," Keith grumbled, and picked up the sheath as well. The sword had a handy harness that he slipped on. It hung comfortably on his back. He exited the tavern, locating his new travelling partners just off the side of the road.  
  
“Sweet, you actually found one,” Lance said, admiring the weapon. “Can we get going now?”  
  
“Let’s go,” Hunk agreed, and he began walking down the road.  
  
Keith noted that they were going the way he had just come from. He sighed. Negative progress, but perhaps travelling with these three wouldn’t be so bad. He allowed himself a bit of a grin. He would make the most out of having other people his age around.  
  
Perhaps they would even become friends?


	3. Chapter 3

"It's that way. Trust me, I know. We go left."  
  
"Um, excuse me? Any fool can tell that it's to the right. It gets _bigger_ when you walk right."  
  
Hunk sighed. Ever since they had recruited Keith into their party a few days ago, he and Lance had found a way to start a dispute over everything. They were currently standing at a two-way intersection. Lance was dead set on the right; Keith, the left.  
  
Pidge shaded her eyes and glanced up at the castle. "To be honest, it looks as though it's slightly more to the left from here. Sorry, Lance."  
  
Lance crossed his arms. "Just you wait. We'll go down this road, and it'll turn out that it would have been quicker to go to the right, and we’ll lose time.”  
  
"Does it really matter?" Hunk interjected. "It’s not like we’re on some sort of time crunch. Let's just keep going."  
  
Lance frowned and let the other three pass him, trailing behind. He knew it was a trivial matter, but nevertheless, he glared daggers at the back of Keith’s head.  
  
_“You’re jealous, aren’t you?”_ a small voice in his mind whispered.  
  
He dismissed the thought with a snort. Why would he be jealous over Keith, whom he nicely invited into the party, just for him to take the lead and his friends’ appreciation all at once? Not to mention that Keith was better-looking than he was. He also carried himself with a much more confident air. So, yeah. No reason to be envious at all. Nothing to get worked up over.  
  
_“So you’re jealous and you think he looks go-?”_ the voice started slyly.  
  
“Stop talking to me,” Lance said quietly, slapping his own forehead.  
  
Hunk gave him a strange look, but other than that, Lance’s odd behaviour went mostly unnoticed. He didn’t even gloat when the left path gave way to a fierce river that looked uncrossable, and they had to turn back and take the right, as Lance had previously vouched for. In fact, Lance was completely silent until Keith fell back to talk to him, letting Hunk lead with Pidge.  
  
“What’s your problem?” Keith asked, tone uninterested. “I haven’t heard anything annoying from back here for at least twenty minutes.”  
  
“Ha ha,” Lance grumbled. As if he could bare his soul to Keith, the source of every dilemma affecting him at the moment.  
  
Keith gave him a funny look but didn’t comment. He didn’t leave, either, like Lance was expecting him to. He just walked next to him, looking around at the scenery with a sense of wonder on his face that made Lance smile. Even a bird fluttering up from the ground to the branch of a tree seemed to give him joy. Keith reacted to every situation as if he had never been out in the open before, and Lance wanted to find out why. He cast around for a casual topic where he might be able to bring it up.  
  
“So, is it cold where you’re from?” he asked, jokingly poking Keith’s burnt arm. “You don’t look like you get a lot of sun.”  
  
Keith expression closed off and he drew back, rubbing his arm. “I guess not.”  
  
Lance waited, but Keith didn’t elaborate. “So?”  
  
“So what?”  
  
“So where are you from?” Lance asked impatiently. “That’s what I’m trying to ask, but clearly subtlety isn’t working.”  
  
Keith nervously averted his eyes. “...Far away.”  
  
“Do I have to tell you how to communicate effectively? Listen, and do it like me: I’m from another country, but I live in rural England now, and I worked on a farm, and I was a serf. Say it like that. I’m just trying to get to know you a little better,” Lance explained, rolling his eyes, but still smiling. Keith was odd, but this was fun.  
  
Keith’s face went a bit redder than it already was. “Fine. I’m from...uh, the city.”  
  
“That’s it? Some ambiguous city?”  
  
Keith scowled. “Why are you asking so many questions about me, anyway?”  
  
Lance threw his hands up in defence. “Like I said, I just want to know you better. Since we’re going to be travelling together for a while and all.”  
  
“Then stop asking so many questions,” Keith said, frowning. “Can’t you just trust me?”  
  
Lance nodded, eyes on Keith’s face, judging his reaction. “Fine. But if our friendship cannot be, then we must have been fated to be rivals.”  
  
“Wha-”  
  
“And so the rivalry of Lance and Keith begins!” Lance shouted dramatically, raising his arms in the air for emphasis. “But beware, rival, for I am much more skilled than I look. I will not be an easy opponent.”  
  
Keith couldn’t help but laugh at the stupid display. “Why rivals?”  
  
Lance narrowed his eyes, a grin on his face. “You’ll see.” He poked Keith’s chest. “Just wait until we face another choice. Then the true dispute will begin.”  
  
At this point, they were lagging behind, engrossed in the conversation. Hunk noticed this and was watching them with a smile. “Hey,” he called to them. “I know I said we weren’t in a hurry or anything, but we have to keep up the pace if we want to arrive sometime this year.”  
  
Pidge rolled her eyes. “Stop sugarcoating it, Hunk. Hey! Hurry the hell up! We’re only around a week away if we walk fast. Don’t you want to actually make it to the castle?”  
  
Lance grinned easily and jogged up to them, Keith right behind. “Relax, guys! Nothing like a bit of friendly banter to liven up a long journey.”  
  
Pidge snorted. “Right. Well, let’s keep going. I think there’s a village up ahead we can pass through, maybe ask for some more reliable directions.”  
  
“Hey! I’ll have you know my directions are perfectly sound,” Lance argued.  
  
“Haven’t you lived on a farm your whole life?” Keith asked, raising his eyebrows. “How would you know the way to the castle?”  
  
“Oh come on, like you know any better,” Lance shot back. “None of you have been there either.”  
  
Keith’s smirk disappeared. “Right.”  
  
Hunk placed a calming hand on Lance’s arm. “Don’t get too worked up about it, buddy. It’d be nice to get another opinion from the locals to see if we’re really on the right track. Sound good?”  
  
Lance relaxed. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”  
  
And so they set off again.  
  
\--------------  
  
Haggar quietly approached the guard at the door of the throne room. She knew her master would be furious at what she had to say to him, but she had no choice but to deliver it.  
  
The guard announced her presence. “My lord! Royal Advisor Haggar is here for an audience with the king!”  
  
“Enter,” he boomed.  
  
Pushing her way into the throne room, Haggar fell into a deep bow at his feet. "My lord."  
  
"What news do you bring, Royal Advisor?" Zarkon growled, eyes flashing.  
  
"My druids have not been able to locate the prince," she said, straightening. "We are divining with all the materials were were able to procure, but there seems to be a powerful magic blocking our view."  
  
"Powerful magic, you say," Zarkon said quietly, voice simmering with anger. "And to whom does this magic belong to?"  
  
Haggar clenched her fists. "We have reason to believe that it is Altean magic. Someone from King Alfor's kingdom is responsible."  
  
Zarkon rose to his feet, his rage filling the room. "Show me to your divination room. I will find the culprit myself."  
  
Haggar pulled her hood a little tighter around her. "Yes, my lord. Although, the ordeal is strenuous, and I do not wish for you to suffer if you do not have to."  
  
The king glared at her, the light glinting off of his crown and armour ominously. "I will do as I please, Haggar. That boy must be brought back in shackles." He scowled. "As for the Alteans... It seems punishments are in order. Prepare the torture chamber, and show me to your druids afterwards."  
  
Haggar inclined her head. "Yes, my lord."  
  
She exited the room, hurrying down to the dark caverns down below. She allowed herself a sadistic grin. She would be glad to experiment on whoever the prisoner would be, especially after the torture chamber was done with them. And once the insolent prince came back, she would finally be able to enact her plan.  
  
\--------------  
  
“There it is!” Pidge called excitedly, high in a tree. She had decided to climb up there after enduring Lance asking if they were there yet for the forty-fifth time. “Should be only ten minutes more.”  
  
The ten minutes had passed uneventfully, except for a magpie scaring Hunk half to death after trying to steal his headband, and the village entrance finally came into view.  
  
Once they had entered the village, Hunk made the decision to stock up on supplies. He recruited a reluctant Pidge to help him, leaving Lance and Keith with the instructions to find reliable directions. As soon as Hunk had gone, Lance immediately dragged Keith into an inn and went to the counter to get a drink. Keith refused his offer to buy one for him and wandered around the small building instead. As Lance was receiving his beverage, Keith caught sight of a grungy poster stuck to the wall. With a spasm of panic, he realised it was his image, wearing a crown and royal robes, that was crudely plastered on the page.  
  
Quickly ripping it down, he scanned it. Though it had no words, as most common people were illiterate, the meaning was clear: he was a wanted man. His father was looking for him. Crumpling up the poster into a little ball in his fist, he desperately hoped that none of the others had seen one of these posters around the town. He scanned the walls just in case, and managed to get rid of two more before the papers were detected.  
  
"Keith? What're you doing?"  
  
He looked over to where Lance was lounging with his newly received drink. Swiftly crossing the inn, Keith dropped into a seat next to him. "Nothing."  
  
"If you say so." Lance shrugged, taking a sip. “Want some?” he said, offering the glass to Keith. “The bartender said it was his _finest_ wine.”  
  
Keith begrudgingly accepted the glass and took a sip as well. Grimacing, he barely managed to swallow it. Finest wine, indeed.  
  
He handed the glass back to Lance, making a face. “I’m going to go get some air, okay?” he said, glancing nervously at the man at the counter and purposefully letting his hair fall into his eyes to cover his features. “I’ll be right back. Try to get directions.”  
  
He left the building, keeping his profile out of the man’s sights. Since he was a wanted man around here, he would have to find something better than hair to cover his face.  
  
As he strode through the town, he kept his eye out for any other posters stuck up on walls. After covertly tearing down two more, he was beginning to panic. His entire plan was unravelling, falling to pieces as his father tried to tear his way back into his life.  
  
He opened the door to what looked like a small fabric shop, a cheerful little bell chiming as he walked in. Handmade outfits were lined up along the walls with price tags attached. The lady managing the counter looked up at him in surprise.  
  
“Hello, sir,” she said in a small voice, cheeks colouring. “Is there something I can help you with?”  
  
Keith uncomfortably pulled at his collar. “Do you have any hoods? Ones that cover the face?”  
  
The lady blinked at him shyly. “I do have some, and forgive me for saying, but why would you want to cover a pretty face such as yours, sir?”  
  
Keith tugged at his bangs, wishing that she would stop scrutinizing him. “I need it for a disguise,” he mumbled.  
  
The lady gasped in shock as recognition dawned on her. “Wait…are you Prince Akir-”  
  
“Shhh!” Keith looked around furtively to make sure no one had heard, even though there was no one else in the cramped shop. “I, um, don't go by that name out here. Please, don’t tell anyone. I just need to hide from my father right now. Please, help me.”  
  
It might have been the way his voice cracked, betraying that he was close to a breakdown, but the lady slowly nodded, bringing her hands away from her mouth.  
  
“I’ll help you,” she whispered. “You should know that the king is sending out search parties for you. He’s extremely angry.”  
  
“I know,” Keith muttered. “If only he could just forget about me. I couldn’t stand living with him anymore, so I ran away.”  
  
The lady nodded quickly. “We peasants think so too, my prince.” She looked around furtively. “We do not want King Zarkon as our ruler anymore. But do not tell anyone of this attitude, or I fear we will all be harshly punished.”  
  
“I won’t,” Keith agreed. “I do not share the sentiments of my father. And as long as I have a hood, I can hide from people who mean to report me to him, and hopefully it will keep your village safe as well.”  
  
The lady smiled and brought him to the back of her shop. She showed him several different hoods designed to hide the face. Keith wasn’t sure what to choose, as he didn’t want to look too suspicious while wearing it.  
  
Eventually he settled on a low, black hood, which looked enough like his red jacket that they could be assumed to go together. It was inconspicuous enough to be part of the crowd, yet hid his royal features from anyone who might recognise them from the posters.  
  
“Thank you, my Prince,” the lady murmured, eyes filling with tears as he handed her more gold than necessary. “I will tell no one of your presence, but I will remember you.”  
  
Keith smiled at her, wishing the rest of the world were as kind. He bid the lady farewell, and exited the shop. Fearing he had taken longer than he was supposed to, he hurried to the inn to find Lance. Lance was standing just outside the bar, looking worried. When he caught sight of Keith, he grinned, relieved.  
  
“Hey, man,” he said, grasping Keith’s hand. “Where’d you go? I was getting nervous that you ran off without us.”  
  
“Nah,” Keith reassured him. “I was just picking something up.”  
  
“The hood?” Lance asked critically. “It’s nice, but why do you need it? It covers up your hair and almost all your eyes.”  
  
Keith laughed. “Just for a change, I suppose. It blocks out the sun, too, which is a plus.”  
  
Lance shrugged. “Whatever you want, I guess. You don't want anymore sunburns, after all. Let’s go find Hunk and Pidge.”  
  
It didn’t take long to spot the two, sporting a lot of new equipment. Hunk looked ecstatic as he packed away all the new cooking herbs he had bought that were native to this region. “This will really _spice_ up my cooking,” he explained gleefully, laughing at the responding groans to his pun.  
  
Pidge had visited the local blacksmith and picked up a few pieces of scrap metal to tinker with. She, too, looked pleased with what she had gained.  
  
“Did you guys find out where to go from here?” she asked, already fiddling with something.  
  
Lance jabbed at his own chest. “ _I_ got directions! Just me. Keith ditched to go make a new fashion statement.”  
  
Hunk laughed. “That’s fine, Lance, as long as you have the directions. So, where do we go?”  
  
Lance crossed his arms. “We have to take the northern path, and then go left through the forest, and take the right fork at the big crossroad sign. That path should lead to the castle. Only a three day trip from here if we keep a brisk pace.”  
  
“Sounds great!” Hunk said, smiling. “One more thing. Every shopkeeper I talked to told me to look out for the runaway prince.”  
  
Keith froze.  
  
“Runaway prince?” Lance asked curiously. “You mean His Majesty Zarkon’s son, Prince Akira?”  
  
“Yeah, apparently he ran away from the castle a few days ago,” Hunk said. “The kingdom is on high alert for him. We’re supposed to bring him to the castle immediately if we find him.”  
  
Lance shook his head in disbelief. “Why would you run away if you had it that good?”  
  
Pidge shrugged. “Maybe he was bored.”  
  
Keith nodded absently, trying to fit into the conversation as he internally panicked. _Don’t let them find out,_ he pleaded. _I just need a safe group to travel in for now._  
  
“Well, enough about that,” Hunk said mildly. “Shall we go?”  
  
“We shall,” Lance said formally.  
  
Unbeknownst to the party, the tavernkeep that Lance had been speaking with was now talking to a seedy-looking man holding a crumpled up poster of Prince Akira. The keep nodded and pointed outside, towards the castle, and the bounty hunter grinned.  
  
\--------------  
  
Haggar escorted the king to the scrying room. Druids stood at tables, mixing ingredients silently. When she entered, they all looked up simultaneously and bowed respectfully.  
  
“We can only pinpoint that the type of magic is Altean,” Haggar said, sweeping over to the largest table. “They must be at close proximity to block our strongest spells. I have posted guards around the courtyard to apprehend any and all intruders.”  
  
“I’ve heard enough,” Zarkon growled. “I know Alfor has been plotting against me for a while. This is just the catalyst. I will depart for Altea immediately, and show the whelp his place.” He turned on his heel and stormed from the scrying room, barking orders to servants along the way. “Prepare my battle armour,” he said to the last one, eyes glowing with malice. “By tonight, Alfor will be no more.”  
  
\--------------  
The next day, the group halted in front of a dense forest at the end of the northern path.  
  
“We go left through the forest?” Hunk asked nervously. “Like, the dark, probably haunted forest? Are you sure we have to go there?”  
  
Lance’s confidence waned, but with a glance at Keith, who did not look bothered, he stood tall again. “Yes,” he declared. “This forest.”  
  
Pidge held out her hand and touched the bark of the outermost tree. She smiled. “It's fine, Hunk. It's a friendly forest.”  
  
Hunk swallowed. “Right. A friendly forest. Let's go, then…”  
  
Keith patted Hunk on the shoulder. “It's fine. You'll be fine,” he said.  
  
“Gee, thanks,” Hunk complained, but he followed them into the forest nonetheless.  
  
Boughs heavy with lush leaves hung down, staining the dappled sunlight green. The air was cool and quiet. A distant bird sang, but it was muted by the swishing of the leaves in the wind. Keith smiled, pushing his hood down and taking a deep breath. This place felt calm and relaxed, and he loved it. He wished he had a forest outside the castle, so that he might have experienced this feeling more often in his childhood. He brushed a few leaves of the soft green bushes with his fingers, praying that this peaceful mood would last and that he could forget about the looming presence of his father, ever searching for him.  
  
Pidge also looked relaxed, the leaves bending towards her, almost like dogs wanting to be petted. She stroked a leaf and laughed as it settled in her palm. Clearly, she was in her element. Nature itself seemed to bend around her, welcoming her as one of them.  
  
Lance fiddled with his sleeves absently. He couldn't stop thinking about the runaway prince. For someone whose dream was to attain a similar status to the prince, it was baffling to think that someone in that station would run away. Squandering that wealth and power...Lance couldn't help but feel angry at this unknown prince. And then to add to his problems, Keith was acting weirdly. The way that he was tearing down random papers in the inn - what was that about? And was it even Lance’s business to pry? He locked his hands behind his head and stretched, staring up at the bits of sky visible through the foliage. It wasn't worth thinking about, anyway. He just wanted to reach the castle. But the lingering doubt still remained.  
  
Hunk stayed behind Lance. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to go very wrong. The silence felt oppressive, the air constricted, the atmosphere too charged. Forests were nice and all, but his teammates seemed too relaxed. Their guard was way down. If something did go badly, Hunk wasn't sure he could get them out of it.  
  
They continued on, the crunching of their shoes on the dried leaves the only sound. It was peaceful.  
  
Therefore, when a thick accented voice shouted out, it shattered the tranquility faster than any of them could realise what was going on.  
  
“You there! Put yer weapons on the ground! Don't make me shoot you!”  
  
Hunk leapt to action, his fears realised. He ushered his friends behind him, glaring at the trees where the voice had come from.  
  
“What do you want?” he called.  
  
“I said down on the ground,” the person growled, coming out from behind the tree wielding a loaded crossbow pointed straight at them. Two swordsmen backed him up.  
  
“Guys, get down,” Hunk muttered out of the corner of his mouth. “I'll handle this.”  
  
“Hunk,” Lance protested, but was cut off.  
  
“No talkin’!” the man roared. “Put yer weapons on the ground ‘nd put yer hands on yer head. I can ‘nd will shoot you if you don't do as I say.”  
  
The others reluctantly set down their weapons and put their hands on their heads, defenceless. Hunk kept his longbow raised, pointed at the man.  
  
“This is yer last warnin’, boy,” the man barked, giving a signal to the two men with swords. “Put. The bow. Down. If you shoot me we’ll kill yer friends faster than you can reload another arrow.”  
  
The two men slowly circled around the group. Hunk couldn't keep his bow on all of them, so he carefully kept it levelled at the one across from him. The others made to move for their weapons on the ground.  
  
The man smirked and made a signal. The two swordsmen suddenly lunged, one tripping Lance and slamming him headfirst in the dirt, and the other darting out to restrain Pidge, grabbing her in a headlock. Lance was out cold, and Pidge was losing strength as she struggled against him. Keith was trying to reach his sword, but the man who had taken out Lance was wrestling with him for it. Hunk couldn't take his eyes off the man in the middle, lest he shoot one of them and end it for good. “What do you want with us?” he asked, desperately trying to keep his voice level. “We don't have anything for you.”  
  
“Oh, but you do,” the man said softly, taking a few steps closer. “You ‘ave the most valuable prize ‘f all.”  
  
Pidge’s eyes rolled up in her head as she lost consciousness, deprived of air. The other man dumped her next to Lance and easily helped the other man restrain Keith. They dragged him to his feet, struggling and cursing, and tied his hands behind his back with rope. “We’ve got him, boss,” he called.  
  
Hunk nearly dropped his bow, he was shaking so hard. “What do you want with Keith?”  
  
The boss laughed in disbelief. “What do we want with ‘im? It's fer the bloody reward money, ain't it? The poster offers up a nice chunk ‘o change for returnin’ ‘im to ‘is father.”  
  
Hunk kept the bow pointed at the boss but turned to look at Keith hesitantly. “Keith?”  
  
Keith looked devastated, bruised and battered. “I'm sorry, Hunk,” he said, voice cracking. “This is all my fault.”  
  
The boss laughed delightedly. “Imagine that, boys! Travellin' with the fugitive prince, ‘nd not even knowin’ it!”  
  
The other men guffawed, and Hunk could barely register the shock. The fugitive prince Akira was the same as the Keith travelling with him now? How could he have been so stupid? He looked similar, acted like he had never been outside before, got into trouble at bars…of course it was Akira.  
  
“If my group’s gonna claim that reward money, I can't ‘ave you hangin’ around to cheat me out’ve it,” the boss said gruffly. He readied his bow.  
  
Hunk let his arrow fly first, turning to punch the man closest to him in the face. Taken by surprise, the man flew to the ground, stunned. Ignoring the thunk of an arrow in flesh behind him and a scream of pain, meaning his arrow had found its mark, he tacked the other man, slamming him into the ground so hard that he didn't get up. He turned to grab his bow again and froze when he saw the boss holding a sword to Keith’s throat, roughly holding him in place. The man’s chest leaked blood around an arrow embedded firmly in his chest.  
  
“If I can't have him,” the boss coughed, blood spattering, “then no one can!”  
  
Keith attempted to struggle free, but the boss pressed the sword harder, a thin line cut into Keith’s throat.  
  
Hunk took a deep breath, aimed as carefully as he could, and let fire. The arrow sailed straight and true, thudding into the boss’ heart right beside Keith’s head. Barely breathing, Keith ducked away as the boss fell backwards, dead.  
  
Hunk collapsed. He cradled his head in his hands, nearly sobbing from terror and relief.  
  
Keith hunkered down next to him best he could with his hands tied behind his back. “I'm so sorry, Hunk,” he murmured, voice breaking. “I'm sorry for everything.”  
  
Hunk wiped his eyes. “Why did you run away?” he whispered. “Why did you trick us?”  
  
“I didn't mean to hurt you guys,” Keith muttered, heart constricting. “I ran away because my father is cruel and sadistic, and I couldn't live with him any longer. I was alone and I didn't know how the world worked, and you guys offered me a family...I couldn't tell you the truth, because I can't go back to my father.”  
  
Hunk looked up at him. “So you're not trying to deceive us?”  
  
“No!” Keith said, more loudly than intended. “I would never do that. I was just trying to start a new life.”  
  
Hunk, pulling himself together, got up, grimly surveying the dead body. “Your new life has put us in danger, _sire_ ,” he said flatly. “But I believe that you mean us no harm. What will we tell Lance and Pidge?”  
  
“Please don't let them know,” Keith said desperately. “I don't want to be treated like a prince, with you calling me ‘sire’ and such. I want to be treated the same as you all, and I can never have that if they know.”  
  
“Fine. I'll keep your secret,” Hunk said, frowning. “But if you being the runaway prince puts us in danger again, I don't know if we’ll get lucky again.”  
  
“I know,” said Keith. “But I would never put you guys in danger on purpose.”  
  
Looking over, Hunk finally noticed Keith’s discomfort and hurried to cut his hands free. Rubbing his wrists, Keith knelt down beside Lance as Hunk went to take care of Pidge.  
  
“Hey,” Keith said softly, shaking Lance’s shoulder. Luckily, he didn't look too injured; a bruise on the forehead would likely be the worst damage sustained. “Wake up.”  
  
Lance groaned, eyes fluttering open. “What?” He saw Keith above him, looking battered, with a angry red line across his throat. “What happened?”  
  
“Those bandits Hunk mentioned,” Keith said, thinking fast. “They attacked us. You got knocked out.”  
  
Lance sat up, head aching. “What did they do to you?”  
  
Keith unconsciously rubbed his finger across the blade wound. “I was the attempted hostage, I guess.”  
  
Lance reached out and before he could stop himself, gently traced the line on Keith’s skin. His hands shook as Keith clasped them with his own. “It's okay,” he promised. “We’re alright now. We just have to be more on our guard next time.”  
  
Lance nodded, allowing Keith to pull him up. The world spun for a moment before settling, and he shakily grinned at Keith, who smiled back.  
  
Hunk was helping Pidge up as well, who looked no worse for wear, besides being a little pale. Hunk frowned at Keith, a question in his eyes. _How much do I tell them?_  
  
Keith shook his head. _None of it._  
  
Lance groaned, holding his head. “I don't know about you guys, but I'm not feeling up to walking anymore today. Could we find a safe place to rest?”  
  
Pidge nodded, coughing violently. Though her previous wounds had mostly healed, it was clear that she was having a rough time recovering.  
  
Hunk inclined his head. “Of course. I’ll keep watch to make sure we’re not ambushed. Keith can help.”  
  
The night passed slowly and awkwardly, even after Hunk cooked a meal for everyone on a hastily constructed fire. The tranquility of the forest was gone, only hostility left in its wake. Every rustle of a leaf sounded like the footfall of a bandit to Keith. Hunk stretched out on his back, observing the stars. Keith noticed that he kept his crossbow right next to his hand, ready to fight if need be.  
  
“So,” Hunk whispered, turning to Keith. “The prince, huh? What’s it like in the castle?”  
  
Keith grimaced. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. My father and his royal advisor hated me, so I wasn't allowed outside when I was growing up. My only friends were the princess and her betrothed from the neighbouring kingdom, Altea. Other than that, I read in my room or trained in the weapons room.”  
  
Hunk looked up at the sky again. “So the royal life isn't all sunshine and rainbows, huh? Kinda makes you think about our dreams.” His eyes widened. “Wait...we’re going to the castle. Keith, you realise we’re bringing you straight back from where you escaped from, right?!”  
  
Keith sighed, tracing the pommel of his sword absently. “Yeah. I know. We’ll just have to...say goodbye when we get there.”  
  
Hunk was silent for a long time. Keith had almost drifted off before Hunk spoke again.  
  
“I'm sorry, Keith,” he murmured. “I know this must be hard for you. But thanks for sticking with us. And I'm sorry I sounded like I was accusing you before. I can never be too sure, you know?”  
  
“Yeah,” Keith said, turning to give Hunk a small smile. “I know.”  
  
Hunk nodded and sighed. “Get some rest. I'll keep watch the whole night. I don't think I could sleep, anyway.” His face was shadowed.  
  
Keith remembered how ashen-faced his friend had been when the boss fell over, dead. “Alright.”  
  
He moved a little ways away and lay down. Despite thinking he wouldn't sleep, his eyes fluttered closed and he slipped into the blessed darkness.  
  
The next morning, the mood was subdued. Pidge and Lance hung behind the other two, talking in low voices, occasionally casting worried looks at Hunk and Keith. Keith awkwardly walked in front, conscious of Hunk’s presence, but not sure what to say. He hated that his secret was out. He had wanted to get away from his status, but everything was falling apart again. Curse his father for ruining everything! He drew his hood tight around his face.  
  
He felt a tap on his shoulder and whipped around. Lance, looking surprised at his violent response, held up his hands. “Easy. I just want to talk.”  
  
“Oh.” Keith relaxed his tense muscles. “Sure.”  
  
Lance stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Are you okay? You seem even more shaken up than Hunk about the bandits. But it’s alright now, okay? We’ll just be more careful.”  
  
“Yeah,” Keith mumbled. “Sorry.”  
  
Lance’s eyes widened. “Oh, it’s nothing to apologise for! I'm just saying, for a guy who I met in a knife fight in a bar, you seem oddly upset about this.”  
  
Keith huffed. “For a guy who stopped a knife fight in a bar, you got knocked out oddly quickly.”  
  
Lance laughed loudly. “Touché. But seriously, you're okay, right?”  
  
Keith smiled softly. “Yeah. Thanks.”  
  
Lance winked at him. “I need my rival to be in fine form, after all!”  
  
He then went back to talk to Pidge.  
  
Soon enough, the trees became more sparse and the way let out into a meadow with a single dirt path that branched off at a crossroad sign. The castle loomed above, closer than ever. Looking at it made Keith feel sick.  
  
Lance, however, looked cheered. “We take a right at the sign,” he said, smiling. “Then we’ll be there!”  
  
Pidge grinned. “Finally. No offense, but you lot are boring. Maybe this’ll be exciting.”  
  
Hunk smiled as well. He seemed to be getting back into the group’s antics. It was only Keith who now felt out of place. As always.  
  
Lance ran ahead, excitedly chatting with Hunk about all the things he’d say when given an audience with the king.  
  
With a jolt, Keith realised that he recognised the surrounding fields of luscious grass from when he had looked out his window. Sure enough, the castle rose up right in front of them. They had made it at last.  
  
Lance punched the air with a whoop. "I knew we could do it! In your faces!" He danced around in victory, happiness clear in every movement he made. Hunk was grinning largely, and even Pidge looked genuinely excited.  
  
Keith could only feel horror. Somewhere inside those walls, Zarkon waited for him to crawl back, furious about his escape. Being so close to the castle was a huge risk and he knew he should have left a long time ago. Before anyone had attacked them for the bounty. Before he got attached to this group.  
  
"Keith! Aren't you excited?" Lance cried, grabbing one of his hands and twirling it above his head. "We've finally reached it! I've been waiting for this moment my whole life!"  
  
Keith stumbled backwards, panic setting in as he realised his ruse was going to fall apart. He was going to be captured by his father and put through a punishment worse than the rest.  
  
Lance must have seen Keith's distress on his face, because he calmed himself down, giving him a worried look. "What's wrong, buddy?" he asked, concerned. "You said you were okay before, right?"  
  
"I'm fine," Keith managed, wishing desperately that he could yank his hand away and run away in the opposite direction, away from his home and his problems. He felt heat rising in his face as Lance and Pidge stared at him, perplexed. Hunk looked mournful, glancing up at the castle and then at him.  
  
"Keith? Are you sure you're okay?" Pidge asked gently. "You look really...scared."  
  
Keith pulled his hand away from Lance, turning away from their inquisitive expressions. "I said I'm fine. Go ahead to the castle. I'll wait here, okay?"  
  
"Wait _here?_ " Lance repeated incredulously. "You came all this way with us just to wait here while we realise our very destinies?”  
  
“I said I’ll wait here.” Keith crossed his arms in order to quell the panic threatening to burst its way out of his chest.  
  
Lance was looking at him strangely. “It’s kind of a…one-way trip,” he said softly. “We might not come back. If you don’t come, we might never see each other again.”  
  
Keith swallowed, tears brimming in his eyes as his emotions battled their way to the surface. “Just go, okay?” he said, a little more harshly than intended. “I’ll wait here, in case you...y’know, don’t find anything.”  
  
Lance reluctantly looked back at the castle, then at him. He opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it.  
  
Hunk clapped Lance on the shoulder. “It’s his decision, Lance. Come on.”  
  
Lance bit his lip and nodded. He turned back to the path to the castle, but instead of being deserted as before, he saw a dust cloud rapidly approaching. “Hey, wait a sec. What’s that?”  
  
They all looked up in surprise. “It looks like a carriage,” Pidge said uncertainly.  
  
Hunk’s eyes widened. “It’s coming straight for us!”  
  
They dove out of the way just in time. It thundered past, but screeched to a halt, coughing up trails of dust. The driver leapt to the ground.  
  
“Keith!?”  
  
Keith looked up in surprise as none other but Allura knocked into him, spinning him into a hug. “Oh, Keith! We’ve been so worried about you!”  
  
Keith tried to hug her back, off balance. “What? Why are you here?”  
  
Allura hushed him. “That’s not important. I’m happy to see you again, but it’s dangerous for you to come back here!”  
  
Lance stepped up. “Excuse me, pretty lady. What exactly are you talking about? Why is it dangerous?”  
  
Allura looked at him critically. “Actually, excuse me. This is a private conversation.” With an apologetic smile she turned away and pulled Keith into a huddle. “Keith,” she whispered. “If he catches you, King Zarkon is going to hand you off to that awful witch Haggar to do whatever she pleases. I've been using all the magic I posses to shield your position from her druids, but if you come back yourself, that kind of defeats the point.”  
  
Keith blinked. “Magic? She's been looking for me?”  
  
“Yes,” Allura said patiently. “She’s using an advanced scrying spell. I have to stay near the castle to block her spell, so Shiro’s been guarding me while I do so. Keith, so much has happened in the days you were gone...my father is dead. Zarkon killed him, and now he's declared war on our kingdom.” Her vibrant eyes filled with tears. “Without Shiro, I don't know how I'd still be standing. But I held onto the hope you were living a better life, far away from here.”  
  
Keith, shocked, pulled away. “King Alfor is dead?”  
  
“Yes,” she whispered. “And you will be next if you go in there.”  
  
Lance tapped Keith on the shoulder. “Sorry to interrupt your little chat, but could you please tell us what’s going on? Who is this?”  
  
Allura frowned and turned to Lance. “Should you speak to him like that? He's-”  
  
“Allura!” Keith interrupted. “It's fine. One second,” he said to Lance.  
  
“They don't know who I am,” he muttered to Allura, who nodded slowly in understanding.  
  
“So you're the ones Keith is travelling with, eh?” she asked, turning to the group. “I’m Allura. I'm his friend from Altea.”  
  
Lance attempted to wink at her with both eyes, Hunk happily extended his hand to shake, and Pidge looked fascinated.  
  
Allura ignored Lance and greeted the others.  
  
“I’m Hunk,” Hunk said happily. “It’s very nice to meet you, ma’am. I’m aspiring to be a royal chef one day.”  
  
“Nice to meet you,” Allura smiled.  
  
Pidge extended her hand. “I’m Pidge. I build things and occasionally move plants,” she said, grinning.  
  
When Allura nodded and grasped Pidge’s hand to shake, she gasped.  
  
“What?” Pidge asked, confused.  
  
“I thought there were no others, but I can sense the gift in you,” Allura said, scrutinising her. “Is your last name Holt, by any chance?”  
  
Pidge looked surprised. “Um, yes. It is.”  
  
“You should come back to my home with me!” Allura said excitedly. “Your brother lives there. Matthew Holt? He has the same gift as you, so I could sense it in your aura.”  
  
Pidge looked thunderstruck. “The people at the village told me he was dead. How..?”  
  
Allura shook her head. “He can explain everything, including your powers, when he sees you.”  
  
She turned to Keith. “We have to go soon. It’s not safe here any longer.” She looked at Hunk. “Hunk, to keep you safe, you are welcome to come with me. You say you are a cook, yes? My family will pay you handsomely for your services, especially once we wrap up this war.”  
  
Hunk glanced at everyone else. “I...I would be honoured,” he stammered.  
  
Allura clapped her hands. “Excellent. So, Keith, I’ll take these two and you keep this young man safe.”  
  
Keith blinked. “Wha-”  
  
Allura cut him off. “He’ll break through my barrier soon, so we have to go. We will meet again, yes? Shiro wants to see you too.”  
  
Giving a quick hug to Keith, she then ushered Pidge and Hunk into the carriage. She hopped up onto the seat. "Hopefully our paths will cross again, in better circumstances," she promised. Whipping the horses’ reins lightly, she hurried them into a trot. In a moment she was once again a dust cloud on the horizon.  
  
Keith felt determined. Seeing Allura again had given him strength, and he knew what he had to do. Lance, however, was very vocal about his confusion.  
  
“What the hell was that?” he shouted. “Keith, what's going on? Why did she take them? Why did she ignore me?”  
  
Keith shook his head. “There’s no time to explain.”  
  
Suddenly, they heard the pounding of footsteps on the dirt. “STOP!” a voice roared. “BY ORDER OF KING ZARKON, SUBMIT!”  
  
Keith cursed. “We can't stay here,” he urged, pulling Lance into a run. “Come on, back to the forest. We can lose them there.”  
  
Lance reluctantly kept pace. “Keith, please tell me what's happening,” he panted.  
  
“I will,” Keith said. “When we’re safe.” They raced through the forest, trying not to trip on roots and leaves.  
  
They huddled in the shadow of a giant tree, breathing heavily. The world around them was silent. Finally, it was deemed safe to speak.  
  
Lance glared at Keith. “Are you going to tell me what all that was?” he demanded.  
  
Keith looked down at his hands. How much to tell? “She’s just my friend from my old home,” he said, committing himself to his lie. No one else could know he was the prince, not after this. He would truly be starting anew. “She knows someone high up in the kingdom of Altea, so she tells me news of the kingdom. She went off with Pidge and Hunk to keep them safe, because King Zarkon is now at war. And Lance...I don’t think your dream is going to happen. The castle isn’t safe. It’s too volatile right now.”  
  
Lance regarded him with some distrust. “If you say so.”  
  
Keith covered his face and turned away. “I’m sorry about everything that happened.”  
  
Lance sighed heavily, pulling himself together. “It’s alright. You had no part in it, anyway. Besides, I guess it’s not that bad. We can still travel together, right?”  
  
Keith half-smiled. “Yeah.”  
  
“Then that’s my new dream. To travel around with you,” Lance joked. Then his smile faded and he looked serious. “If I can’t find my destiny at the castle, then it must be with you. Fate wouldn’t have led me to you for any other reason.”  
  
Keith looked at him, surprised. “You think so?”  
  
Lance smiled. “Yeah. I do.”  
  
Keith smiled back. Maybe things would still be alright. Now all that was left to do was to stay out of the grasp of King Zarkon, and everything would be okay.


End file.
